After
by Isis1
Summary: Can Riddick admit his feelings for Jack and can he overcome that he's in love with a dead woman.


She sat there at a bar. Which one? She didn't know,   
they all seemed the same to her now. The room was dark   
and smoke filled. She looked to her right and saw a   
whore sitting on some man's lap. She shook her head.   
"Filthy people," she thought. Jack looked down at her   
glass of Scotch. "I'm not any better," she conceded.   
She took a sip and stared blankly at the wall in front   
of her. She wasn't an alcoholic, not really. "He's   
the reason I'm here," Jack told herself.   
  
He was distant from her ever since they landed.   
Ever since Imam had killed himself. Why did he do it?   
He had lost all his sons, everyone he had ever loved,   
what more was there to live for? Jack had cried for   
days. Riddick didn't even try to comfort her.   
She guessed he didn't know how.   
  
They lived in a small apartment, one room,   
that was all they could aford. Jack didn't even   
know what he did. She on the other hand was a   
waitress. She hated it. The place had good   
food, but the men were intolerable. They slapped   
her ass and looked down her dress. She didn't   
tell Riddick. What would she say, "Uh, Riddick,   
some old guy was looking down my dress, can you   
kill him for me? Oh, yeah, what's for dinner?"   
Real nice conversation.   
  
Riddick never wanted to talk. For the first   
month he said about ten words to her, collectively.   
Jack finally got tired of it. He was lying on the   
couch one night, watching the t.v. She walked right   
in front of it and stood there. Riddick blinked and   
continued to look straight through her. She jabbed   
him in the ribs with her left foot. He growled   
and looked up at her.   
  
"What'd I ever do to you?" she asked, sounding hurt.   
  
"Nothing," he answered.   
  
"Oh, nothing, huh? So that's why you won't   
talk to me?" Jack inquired.   
  
"I talk to you," he defended.   
  
"Um hmm. Lets see, "when's supper ready", "what   
time is it", "where's your paycheck", and I think   
it was, "you don't need that," said Jack.   
  
He growled again in response.   
  
"And stop doing that, you sound like a bear," Jack informed him.   
  
Riddick sighed and rolled off the couch. He walked toward the door.   
  
"That's right, run away to wherever it is you go," she yelled.   
  
He turned and glared at her.   
  
"You wanna know where I go?" he asked.   
  
Jack looked down at the floor, sheepishly.   
  
"You wanna' know?" he asked, louder.   
  
"Yes," she whispered.   
  
He walked back to her and grabbed Jack by the arm.   
Riddick pulled her out the door and locked it behind him.   
  
The room was dark and smelled of smoke. Riddick   
was sitting at a table, looking at his hand of cards.   
His face was blank. Two other men sat at the table as   
well. Jack sat at his right side. She glanced at his   
hand and scowled. She never understood poker. The   
younger looking man threw his cards down and stood   
up from the table. He walked over to the bar and   
ordered some whiskey. The old man smiled and shook   
his head. He then threw some more money on the table.   
  
"So, Mr. Johns, are you in?" asked the elder.   
  
Riddick nodded and threw in his money as well.   
The old man grinned, a knowing grin.   
  
"I call," said the man.   
  
Riddick slowly turned over all five of his cards.   
Four were Kings and the other was a two. The old man's   
eyes got wide and he silenty swore under his breath.   
Jack grinned, realizing Riddick had won. The old man   
stood up and walked angrily out the door. Riddick   
scooped up his money and handed it to Jack. She   
folded it and shoved it in her pocket. Riddick   
poured a shot of whiskey and downed it quickly,   
followed by three more. He signaled the waitress   
to bring him a beer. He took a swig then offered   
it to Jack. She shook her head, but he shoved it   
to her mouth. Jack grabbed the bottle from him and   
drank the rest of it's content. Riddick laughed and   
took another shot of whiskey. The young man from   
before walked back from the bar to the table. He   
sat down. Riddick turned his attention to him.   
  
"You're whore is kind of cute, how much?" the man asked.   
  
Jack opened her mouth to throw a vile insult   
at the man, but Riddick forced his tongue into her mouth,   
while pulling her on his lap. Riddick pulled   
back and glared at the man.   
  
"She's not for sale," he informed.   
  
"Oh, come on, everything's for sale," the man coaxed.   
  
Riddick slipped his right hand between Jack's   
thighs. She gasped and jumped a bit.   
  
"Not everything," said Riddick.   
  
"Hmm, too bad, the things I could have done..." he started,   
but was interrupted by Riddick slamming his fist on the table.   
  
The man jumped. The entire room went silent.   
Seconds later the mindless chattering continued.   
  
"I think you better get the fuck out of here," suggested Riddick.   
  
The man stumbled out of his chair. Meanwhile,   
Jack was staring at Riddick with an amazed look on her face.   
He looked back at her and met her eyes. She closed her mouth   
and her expression softened. He looked seductively   
at her and leaned his mouth to her ear.   
  
"That's why I don't tell you where I go," he said, ever so quietly.   
  
Swiftly, he stood her as well did he. He grabbed   
her hand and led her outside. They walked down the   
street, back to their apartment, hand in hand.   
  
It was Jack's turn to sleep on the couch.   
Riddick was asleep and Jack could hear his soft snoring.   
She had the t.v. on, but her thoughts were of the kiss she   
had recieved earlier. She brought her fingertips and   
softly ran them across her lips. Jack let her hand   
drift back down to her side. It came to her. It   
was so simple, why couldn't she had seen it. She   
just now realized, she was in love with him. Jack   
shook her head as to rid the feeling, but she knew   
it would do no good. Then, she heard him. Riddick was yelling.   
  
"No!" he screamed.   
  
The room was quiet. Jack flipped the t.v. off and   
stood up from the couch. She silently crept toward the door   
to the bedroom. Softly, she tapped on the door.   
  
"Riddick?" Jack whispered.   
  
There was no answer. Jack took a deep breath and   
opened the door. It made a creaking sound as she opened.   
She stepped through and closed the door. She tip toed toward   
the bed and slowly made her way to the side of the bed Riddick   
lay on. He was asleep on his back, traces of the moonlight   
hi-lighted his face. A tear was on his cheek and fell down   
to his chin. Jack reached out and caressed the left side of   
his face. Suddenly, his eyes flew open. Jack gasped, then   
gulped. Riddick sat up and the sheet fell off of him. Jack   
looked down, he was naked. She turned to go, but Riddick   
grabbed her arm and pulled her toward him. He sat her so   
her knees stradled his waist, he was still sitting.   
  
"Carolyn," he breathed.   
  
Jack winced at the name. His hands snaked up the   
back of her shirt and he pulled it over her head. The cool   
air nipped at her skin. Riddick rolled over on top of her.   
He bit at her neck and trailed his toungue to her navel. Jack   
closed her eyes, unable to wake him from his trance. His large   
hands slipped her pants off in one movement. She whimpered as   
brought her legs around his waist. He kissed her, prying her   
mouth open and taking anything he wanted.   
  
A hand slammed down on the bar. Jack jumped and   
the memory she was dwelling on was interrupted.   
  
"You gonna' stare at that drink all night, sweetie?" the bartender asked.   
  
She shook her head and threw some money on the counter.   
Jack grabbed her jacket and pulled it on. She made her way   
through the horrible stinch of bodies to the exit door. She   
pushed the door and ran until she got to the opposite sidewalk.   
Jack exhaled a deep breath and walked slowly toward her apartment.   
She sighed and thought of her drinking problem. She wanted to denied   
it, but found she couldn't. Jack abruptly stopped. She reached in   
to her inner pocket of her jacket. She took out a pure silver flask.   
She unscrewed the top and poured out the whiskey. She put the top on.   
Jack looked at the bottom of the flask. She caressed the initials on   
the bottom and sighed. She thought of when she's given it to him.   
R. B. R. Richard B. Riddick. She always wondered what the B stood   
for. She put the flask back in her pocket and continued her   
destination of home. Jack stopped. She heard footsteps, heavy   
footsteps. She quickened her pace and as she did so did the   
footsteps. She darted into an alley and ran down it. She stopped   
when she came to a dead end. Jack quickly turned around. She   
couldn't see anything, but could hear the steps getting closer.   
  
"Who's there?" she called out. 


End file.
